


A Time for Heroes

by HiddenDirector



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenDirector/pseuds/HiddenDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Millions of stellar cycles before Optimus Prime and his team of misfit repair bots would land on the planet called Earth, Cybertron was gripped in a war between Autobot and Destron.  In the midst of it all, a young scientist and his reluctant bodyguard would take solace in each other's arms.  This is a story of war, friendship, joy, mistakes, life, death, pain, destiny, and a love that would stand the test of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Time for Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Those of you familiar with my account on fanfiction.net, masterctarl, will recognize the title and concept of this fanfic. However, this may become very different than you remember it. That's because I came to the realization that I absolutely, completely hated how I wrote it. I rushed the first few chapters, introduced characters without actually making them as important to the story as I wanted, and generally made a mess out of it. The last couple chapters were okay, but I hated the first few. So I'm completely rewriting it. I'm not posting it there to comply with their ToS involving X-Rated content, which this will indeed contain.
> 
> On that note, you'll notice the E rating without actual content for it for the first few chapters. Bare with me, I'm trying to actually pace this fanfic well this time. It will come, but it will take a couple chapters of establishing the relationship between the characters first. I'll add tags and warnings as the content changes.
> 
> I named Ultra Magnus's younger self Ultra Dion, after a G1 character as both a homage to him and because I really liked the sound of it. Also, someone just named "Ultra" just sounded really stupid.

There was no greater sensation than metal in the servos. The crackling of electricity through a conduit. The heat of a soldering iron mending circuits. It was an exhilarating rush. Schematics and datapads littered the desk next to him, but he didn’t bother picking them up. He already knew the intimate workings of the internal part. He was focusing so much on his work that he almost didn’t hear the voice behind him.

“…ceptor!”

The young green, red and black mech jumped, pulling the soldering iron away quickly before he could damage his project. He pulled his custom, multi-lensed work goggles up off his optics, resetting them at the sudden change in his perspective. When his vision cleared he was staring at the red and white helm of Crosscut, his mentor and the Head of Science. “Oh, C-Crosscut…” he looked away from the stern glare. “Is there something you require?”

“Yes, you actually being here. Would you like to explain why you are thirty cycles late?” the older mech’s lip components pursed together.

Perceptor looked up in surprise and checked his internal clock. “Oh, Primus! I was so busy I lost track of time. I am so sorry, I-“

The Head of Science cut him off. “Don’t be sorry, Perceptor. Be _here_.” With that the screen blinked into darkness.

The younger scientist cringed and turned back to his project. With an ex-vent he picked it up, putting it on the shelf with the rest of his unfinished modifications. He removed his goggles and turned the soldering iron off, putting them both to the side. He never brought his own equipment to the lab. He was afraid they’d be broken, lost, or worse, that someone else would pick them up and he’d never see them again.

As soon as everything was his manic version of organized Perceptor ran out the door. It was a quick drive across the Science Division, but still he had to hurry. If he was later than he already was Crosscut would be furious. And he couldn’t think of a worse thing.

 

()()()()()

 

The target was moving quickly in his line of sight. A slow ex-vent and steady hands kept the laser rifle in his servos steady. One last shot. Just one more target, then never again.

“Hey, Dion!”

“Primus Almighty!”

The blue and white recruit jerked as a hand came down on his shoulder. The laser blast from his training room rifle arched into the ceiling, missing the target by a longshot. As soon as his vents stopped heaving he turned to the laughing teal mech behind him.

“That wasn’t funny, Kup!” Ultra Dion snapped.

“Nah, that was hilarious,” the smaller soldier grinned. “Tryin’ one last time to beat my high score? Don’t see why, after tomorrow it ain’t gonna matter. We’re gonna be front-liners, first-wave.”

Dion gave a neutral grunt. He never asked to be a soldier, didn’t _want_ to be one. Especially if he had to fight the Destrons.

The Destrons were Cybertron’s defense force. Warriors, soldiers, all sparked and groomed to protect the planet and its ‘bots without question. Dion had been an errand-bot for them, knew many by name.

He knew there had been unrest among the soldiers. Many were tired of being under the pede-strut of the Elites and the Council. Being treated as lesser because they were bred for no more than war, something Cybertron saw so rarely. He never expected it to actually go anywhere.

Which was why it came as a shock to few when Megazarak, their commander, led them to rebellion. If not for the fissure in the Destron ranks between the rebels and the loyalists, it may have been a complete success. There was no other army to repel them and the Autobots found themselves ill prepared for such a turn.

However, from the ashes of the first battle arose those who showed loyalty and those with potential.

Dion had been told he had potential in spades. He hadn’t really… meant to. But running around the Destron home base in Kaon for so long, watching them, he knew how to fire a laser rifle. As soon as the first shots arose from the depths of the base he started defending himself. He didn’t remember much of what happened at the time. There was a lot of running, panicking, the sound of laser fire, and someone barking commands to get everyone organized. He had ended up behind a barricade in the medbay with an injured medic and two of the soldiers. He had been impressed by the young medic, whose name he never caught, who despite her own injuries spent her time repairing the three of them.

Four megacycles after it all started it ended just as abruptly. The four were coaxed out of the medbay, after being repeatedly assured it wasn’t a trick by the rebels, and told an agreement had been struck between the rebels and loyalists to prevent the unnecessary loss of more life. The rebels would have control of Fort Trypticon if the loyalists cleared out of the city of Kaon, and the rebellion would cease for as long as they were left alone.

Nova Magnus seemed perfectly willing to give them the city. After all, he knew from experience the power of the Destron forces. Knew if they rose completely against his council and people they would have no chance. He buckled under their threat quickly and decisively, leading to the people of Cybertron to begin to doubt his validity as a ruler. And this was how Powered Convoy, leader of the loyalists, rose quickly to fame with one charismatic speech.

“This peace will _not_ last. Those of unrest amongst the Destrons have shown time-and-again that it will never be enough. Nova Magnus would have you believe history shows that bending to their will, cowering from them, is the better path. That is not better. It is safer, _easier_ , but it is not _right_. You have been too long dependent on us to fight your battles, and now you have no one but us few who are loyal to keep you safe from those of us who wish you harm. This does _not_ have to be the end, Autobots. Because within all of us is the potential to defend the peaceful way of life we all know and love. My loyalists and I are ready to help those who are willing to unlock that potential and fight. Because I know we, as a people, as fellow Cybertronians are _not_ weak. We are _not_ cowards. And we will _not_ be intimidated by those who can only find peace through tyranny!”

Ultra Dion had never heard the collective voices of Cybertron roar louder than that solar. The ‘bots cried out for the power to protect themselves from those living on their own planet who threatened their way of life. Powered Convoy and his men raised the Autobot Academy, the Autobot boot camp, and Fortress Maximus, the now home base of the Autobot Elite Guard. Recruits poured in from all over Cybertron. Those who had fought in the Loss of Kaon were conscripted as having already proven merit and bravery.

The recruit holding the practice rifle felt neither of those things at that moment.

“C’mon,” Kup flung an arm around Dion’s shoulderplates. “We’re gonna go celebrate our last solar as lowly recruits at the Academy! We’ll be war heroes, the first Elite Guard to graduate! It’ll be all action, commendations, and ‘bots throwin’ themselves into our berths!”

“Oh, _really_?” Kup froze at the vocal. He slowly turned his helm until he was staring over his shoulderplate. There stood a femmebot with pink and blue plating, light blue lip components pursed. “Into yer _berths_ , ya say?”

Ultra Dion had to work hard not to smile at Kup’s ill timing. The marksman was sputtering, for once completely speechless. “Hey, Slipshot,” Dion greeted amicably.

“Hello, Dion,” the femme replied sweetly. “How’s yer last-minute trainin’ goin’?”

“Was going better before Kup decided to interrupt me. He does the same thing in the field and we’re all dead.”

Slipshot crossed her arms over her chestplate, venting loudly. “Kup, can ya take five cycles to take somethin’ seriously for once? We ain’t gonna live through our first skirmish ya keep goofin’ off and distractin’ everyone else.”

“I’m not goofin’ off, I’m just tryin’ to get ya to loosen up a little before graduation. We’ll have plenty time to be serious an’ all once we’re out there,” the teal mech argued. He and Slipshot argued about his carefree attitude constantly. They’d grown up together in the same energon farming village. Slipshot had a work ethic that could rarely be rivaled and a practical attitude to match. Kup was a hard worker but believed that enjoying what you did was more important than anything else.

“Hey, guys, maybe Kup’s right,” the blue and white mech with them said, throwing an arm around each of their shoulderplates. “This solar’s one for celebration. We need to get it out of our systems before it becomes one battle after another.”

Slipshot huffed again, then relaxed her frame. “Alright, ya’ll win. Let’s go. I’ll even buy the first round of drinks ta prove I can ‘loosen up’.”

 

()()()()()

 

Perceptor rounded the corner to the main building for the Science Division at full speed, transforming from his altmode into his robot one as he stopped. He stumbled and almost fell on his face but managed to recover his dignity by catching himself on the bottom step. He straightened up and brushed himself off, looking around to make sure no one saw that. Luckily, but strangely, there was absolutely no one around to have. It was unusual, especially at the peak of work hours at the Division, but he shrugged it off. There was probably an experiment gone awry and all hands were called to contain it. Yes, that was surely it.

He made it halfway up the steps when he became acutely aware that he was no longer alone. It wasn’t the pedesteps running up behind him on the stairs that made him go ridged, though, hydraulics running cold in their lines. There was someone at the top with a laser rifle. One that was pointed right at him. He opened his mouth to… he didn’t know what. Shout, scream, ask what was going on? Whatever was about to leave his lip components didn’t get a chance as servos suddenly closed on them, muffling him.

“Hey, this is the mech, right? The one they wanted?” the one holding him called up to his partner.

“Yeah, matches the description,” the other with the rifle descended the stairs, firearm never leaving its target. “Scrawny, red and green, microscope attachment.” He used the tip of his weapon to nudge Perceptor’s chin up, leaning forward. “Didn’t say he was so pretty. Pity we gotta hand him over.”

Perceptor shivered in fright, unsure what was going on and fearing what they were planning. Hand him over? They were waiting for him? Why? Why weren’t there any guards? What could they want him for? Where were they planning to take him? A million questions ran through his processor as he was pulled roughly along back down the steps.

“Don’t struggle. Don’t scream. Don’t do anything that’s going to make my finger twitch if you wanna keep your pretty helm,” the mech with the weapon warned. The apprentice scientist nodded quickly.

They were nearly to the bottom of the steps when the sound of a laser rifle pierced the quiet. Perceptor jumped, expecting to find himself in the Well of Allsparks wondering what he did to make the mech fire. But when he onlined his optics after waiting for the sound of Primus to greet him he found himself still functioning. The mech with the rifle was on the ground, servos to his shoulder where his arm used to be. It was now lying on the ground with his weapon still in its hand.

“Let go of the nerd and no one else loses any parts,” came a thick femme vocalizer from the top of the steps. Perceptor recognized the voice but he still didn’t dare move. The mech holding him had tightened his grip.

“Let _us_ go or I’ll see if his neck components can turn 180 degrees without tearing any wires!” the mech yelled back, looking over his shoulderplate at her.

“No you won’t. You have specific orders, don’t you? You need him online. He’s too important for your superiors to allow you to kill him. So let him go and I’ll let you both see another solar with all your arms attached. Well, the remaining ones anyway.”

The mech made a frustrated sound and tightened his grip further. After a moment he seemed to understand that if he so much as twitched wrong he wasn’t getting out of this intact. So he released the scientist, holding up his servos in surrender.

Perceptor didn’t realize he could move so quickly. He tripped and stumbled up the steps to the top where a heavily armored femme in dark reds and blues was waiting for him, her custom rifle still trained on the two mechs below. “Road Rage!” he exclaimed gratefully, taking refuge behind her large frame. He felt safe there.

“It’s alright, hon. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m here. You know that,” she grinned, taking aim. Two shots and two yelps later, both of the mechs at the bottom of the stairs were on the ground, each missing a leg.

“Spawn of a glitch!” the one who had been holding Perceptor groaned, holding his mangled limb. “You said-!”

“I _said_ you wouldn’t lose anymore arms! I didn’t say anything about legs!” She brought her rifle around and strapped it back into place on her back, nodding towards them. “Take ‘em, gentlemechs. I’m done with them.” As if waiting for that command, three guards came out from the building and ran down the steps. “Come on, hon, let’s get you inside,” she said to the scientist. “You look like you could use a few to get yourself running proper again.”

Perceptor simply nodded, following her inside. There was a crowd that had gathered at the door to see the commotion. The red and green mech dipped his helm down. He’d always hated attention, having bots stare at him. Where had all these bots been while he was being kidnapped, anyway?

As if reading his mind, Road Rage began speaking as she waved her hand in a shooing motion at them. “There was an explosion in one of the weapon testing grounds. Huge, offlined a couple bots, injured who knows how many others. Took everyone we had to contain the fires and get everyone out of there. Had to call in the guards to help.” She opened the door to the west hall, allowing him to go in ahead of her before closing it away from the gapers. “Crosscut had me go meet you out there when he realized we didn’t have anyone out there guarding. Good thing, too. I don’t wanna think of what would’ve happened to you if they managed to get you to one of the rebel hideouts.”

“Rebel?” Perceptor all but whimpered. His optics went wide. In his panic at the time he never put two-and-two together, but it was the only possible explanation now that she said it. They were Destron rebels. He was being taken by those… those traitors. The very people he was tasked to build weapons to fight against. “But… but why would they want me of all bots?”

“Because you’re smart, talented, and a rising prodigy in weapon design,” Crosscut answered as they entered his office. He was standing at one of the tables with Counterbalance, one of the other scientists in his immediate care. “You’re also perpetually and predictably late and careless of the world around you. You pay no attention to your surroundings. You may as well have a neon sign on your back that says ‘EASY TARGET’.”

Perceptor cringed and muttered, “I’m sorry…” He felt silly apologizing for almost being kidnapped and likely subjected to interrogation and torture at the hands of the rebels, but he was too shy to say anything else.

“If you had a bodyguard like Road Rage then we wouldn’t have to worry about this,” Crosscut said, picking up a pile of datapads. He gathered them under his arm and turned to the door. “We are in fact leaving for a Council meeting. I will bring it up with them and take suggestions of appropriate candidates. You will be safe here inside the building, but you will wait until I return to leave. Road Rage will go with you.”

“Yes, Crosscut,” the apprentice said lightly, still staring at the floor. “Be safe on your way there.”

“Unlike you I am aware of the dangers. And I have Road Rage thus the rebels would be foolish to try attacking me. Worry about your own safety,” the Head of Science snipped at him, heading out the door without another word.

“I’ll be back long before you have to leave, don’t worry,” Road Rage assured the younger scientist, giving his shoulderplate a reassuring squeeze.

Perceptor nodded and watched her leave after her charge. After a moment he sighed, getting his supplies from the storage cabinet in the corner of the room and joining Counterbalance at his table. The orange and green mech leaned back from the microscope he was looking into, smiling at the younger. “Another warm, touching display of affection from our boss, huh?” he joked. After a moment, though, his grin melted away. Perceptor was shaking, servos covering his faceplate. “Hey, hey. Are you alright?” he asked, reaching out and gently touching his shoulderplate.

Perceptor shook his helm, vent hitching. “I am nowhere near ‘alright’…” he whimpered. “I want to be in my room… I want to have an emotional breakdown but I do not wish to do it in front of anyone, even you…” He wouldn’t usually admit any of this to anyone, let alone speak this much. But Counterbalance was different. He was the only bot he considered a friend, someone he was close enough to that he could be honest and open about himself.

The red and green apprentice scientist was a chronically shy and withdrawn creature. He didn’t like being around others for long periods of time, said barely two words to most of them. The only exceptions were the three he spent most of his solars in Crosscut’s office with: Crosscut, Road Rage, and Counterbalance. Between the three only the latter two he truly felt any remnant of security with, however. Crosscut, despite grooming him to take his position as Head of Science, was incredibly cold to him. Road Rage, despite being the Head’s bodyguard, was very warm and protective, and Counterbalance was friendly and did his best to make Perceptor feel like more than just another processor. And so the young scientist tried his best to actually try and be amicable with them in return. They didn’t throw their hands up in frustration and give up yet, so he figured he had to be doing something right.

“Hey, now, don’t worry,” Counterbalance’s hand moved around to the other shoulderplate, pulling the younger mech in and holding him soothingly. “Is this about the rebels? They were just idiots, trying to make a name by capturing the Head’s prize pupil.”

“I was so scared, ‘Balance…” Perceptor pressed against the orange and green mech, feeling safer there. “I was terrified of what they wanted, what they were going to do to me. I knew nothing of what was going on and why there was a rifle in my faceplate. Knowing now… it does not make me feel any better. In fact I am even more frightened than before. They were _targeting me_ , Counterbalance. _Me_.”

“I know, but you don’t have to worry about them anymore. They’re going to get interrogated and thrown in jail and you’ll never see them again. The Destrons will know that you’re not just some easy target to go after and they’ll back off if they’re smart. And Crosscut said he’s getting you a bodyguard, so you’ll have someone there in case they _are_ stupid enough to try again,” Counterbalance reasoned with him, petting his helm softly. “So stop worrying your pretty little helm and let’s get to work before Crosscut gets back. Then we’ll have something to _really_ be scared of.”

Perceptor looked at him and smiled, giving a light giggle. At the sound his companion smiled again and leaned down, bumping the top of their faceplates together. It was an odd sign of affection that he liked doing with the younger scientist, but Perceptor didn’t mind. It was strangely comforting. He gave a light nuzzle back and pushed out of the hug, turning to the workbench. “You’re right; I am far more intimidated by Crosscut than any rebel. So let us work, shall we?”

Counterbalance winked and turned back to his chemical experiments. “Whatever you say. You’re the future boss.”

 

()()()()()

 

“’Kay, so there we are in th’ storehouse, bein’ completely quiet…”

Ultra Dion took another drink of his Enjex, grinning behind the cube. Kup was on another one of his long anecdotes, and they only got more entertaining the more he drank. It helped that his speech got choppier the most plastered he was. Slipshot was getting another drink herself, squeezing between two huge mechs at the bar. She knew how this story went. Well, she should have, at least. She was in it.

“’Shot’s got th’ grenades an’ I’m watchin’ th’ door. Ya could’a felt the tension from twenty mechanometers away. ‘Shot’s puttin’ the grenades in the biggest containers we could find.”

“Wait, remind me why you were blowing up the storehouse again?” Dion stopped him.

Kup looked at him indignantly. He hated when people interrupted him. “Cause Pothole’s a greedy, ugly glitch. We need a better reason?”

“I still refuse to believe his designation is ‘Pothole’.”

“Oh, believe it,” Slipshot chuckled, sitting down and sipping her drink. “Don’t ya know? All the best names are taken.”

“Can I finish my story?” the teal mech asked indignantly. When he got silence and expectant looks in response, he continued. “Anyway, I’m gettin’ antsy cause ‘Shot’s takin’ longer than I thought. So I turn around fer five kliks, _five_ of ‘em! An’ I suddenly hear Pothole yellin’ across th’ field. ‘Slaggin’ kids, get outta my storehouse! How many times I gotta tell ya…?’” Kup slammed a fist on the table for emphasis, causing the drinks to shake. Enjex splashed out of one cube. “Well, we don’t wait around ta find out what he hadda say to us. We were outta there, faster’n a turbofox been drinkin’ high grade. We got about halfway to Slipshot’s home ‘fore we heard it.”

“BWOOM!” Slipshot startled Dion into jumping from her sudden outburst. She flailed her arms out as if having a fit. It took him a moment to realize it was her impression of an explosion. “That there storehouse was _gone_.”

“Made th’ news an’ everythin’,” Kup nodded, taking a drink. “Turned out ‘Shot here grabbed the wrong grenades from her creator’s stash. She was jus’ supposed ta get th’ small charges. Lil’ property damage. ‘Stead, she got th’ heavy-duty stuff.”

“It was the prettiest thing I ever done seen, though,” the pink and blue femme said dreamily. “That huge explosion was like a wakeup call for me. I decided then and there I was gonna go into demolitions like my creator.”

“Too bad yer creator was who whooped our sorry afts afterwards. Didn’t let me come back to yer place fer decacycles afterwards.”

The blue and white soldier with them laughed. It felt good, being in that bar with his friends. The next solar he’d be sent out on the front line against his wishes, but at least he would be with his friends. He supposed he could handle that. The other two looked at him, then each other, and joined him in his laughing. When they all calmed down he raised his cube. “A toast. To going to war alongside friends. And blowing up storehouses.”

“Here, here!” Slipshot and Kup cheered, joining him.

 

()()()()()

 

Crosscut’s return came quicker than Perceptor would have liked. He rather enjoyed having the laboratory to just himself and Counterbalance. He felt like he could concentrate without pressure. But now that he was back behind his desk the young scientist felt like the slightest error would cause the entire room to explode.

“He doesn’t look very happy,” Counterbalance muttered to the younger mech. “More than usual, I mean. What do you suppose happened?”

“Goodness if I know,” Perceptor whispered back, leaning over the microscope to disguise their conversation. “I’m simply satisfied with him glaring at his desk instead of us.”

Road Rage was the complete opposite of their boss, grinning from audial to audial. Crosscut was determinedly not looking at her, as even his glare couldn’t stop her. Obviously whatever it was they vastly disagreed on. This went on the rest of the solar, until it was time to pack up their experiments and research for the lunar cycle.

“Hey, Perceptor,” Counterbalance joined the red and green mech at the cabinet where he was putting his supplies away. “I know you’re probably still shaken from earlier, so do you want me to drive with you back to the suites?”

Perceptor and Counterbalance were among those who lived in a series of suites on the Science Division’s grounds. As a member of the Elite, Perceptor was perfectly welcome to live in the Elite District and commute to the Division. However, as that solar was an indication, it was far more effective for him to be nearby. His ability to be chronically distracted while in his suite was a large factor to that decision. He also preferred to be on hand in case they needed him immediately.

“Oh, Road Rage was going to…” Perceptor started.

“Actually, I think it’d be best for him to do it. I’m gonna stay here with Crosscut until he’s ready to go,” the femme in question said from her position by the door. “You go on ahead when you’re done. After today, you could use some recharge.”

“Before you go, I need to speak with you,” Crosscut spoke up. The glare Perceptor had been glad wasn’t aimed at him earlier was doing just that.

“Okay, do you want me to…?” Counterbalance gestured towards the door. When the glare turned on him, he swallowed hard. “Right. I’ll just be… I’ll meet you outside, Perceptor.” He retreated quickly, door sliding closed behind him.

Perceptor approached the desk at the head of the room nervously, servos fidgeting with each other. He didn’t like when Crosscut had that particular scowl. It usually meant he did something wrong. “Crosscut, about when I arrived… I apologize for my lack of focus. I know it was my fault it happened, and I-”

“Stop apologizing,” the Head of Science cut him off sharply. He ignored the cringe his protégé gave. Instead, he gave one last glare at his bodyguard, who continued to grin, before looking back to the younger scientist. “As you know, I talked to the Council to make sure this doesn’t happen again. I asked for a list of bots for approval for your bodyguard. Their response was… less than ideal.”

The red and green mech’s spark sank. “Did they refuse the request?”

“If it were that simple, I would simply find you one myself,” Crosscut snapped at him. “A bodyguard for hire isn’t something I was looking forward to, as I already pay for Road Rage’s services and finding one that can do their job as well and loyally as hers is nearly impossible these days.”

“Aww, shucks,” the blue and red femme waved a hand in mock-flattery.

Once again, Crosscut ignored the distraction. “However, they decided to take my request to spark when I told them about the incident earlier this solar. They have decided to choose your new bodyguard without my input. They seem to be under the unfounded impression that my connection to you would sway my opinion of the candidates. Nonsense, but they would hear none of it.”

“They said they just graduated out their first batch’a Autobot Academy students. They’re gonna choose your new guard from the bunch,” Road Rage spoke up. “Crosscut ain’t happy about it because he doesn’t want to leave your spark in rookie servos. I disagree, personally. Not only is it gonna be free, which he should be thrilled for, but you won’t find someone more willin’ to throw their lifecycle down for you than a trained and true Autobot soldier.”

“Which we don’t _know_ , because as you said this is the first graduating class. We know nothing about the effectiveness of this Academy. For all we know it could be a horribly flawed curriculum with sub-par training. I don’t want to put my protégé’s lifecycle in danger,” the red and white scientist grumbled.

Perceptor’s previously sinking spark brightened at the words. That was the closest Crosscut had come to making an indication that he actually cared for Perceptor past his work in… ever, really. “If it is the decision of the Council, then we should give it a chance,” he said quickly. While he didn’t revel in the idea of meeting someone new, he wanted to indulge in this sign of affection as much as he could. “After all, that is the purpose of the Council, is it not? To make decisions that will benefit Cybertron as a whole. That is what you always tell me when you speak of when I will stand among them. There must be a reason this was their solution.”

Crosscut leveled an unamused look upon him, making Perceptor’s temporary spark of boldness flicker out immediately. He made a frustrated sound at the back of his vocals before speaking again. “It is not as if I have a choice in the matter. They are deliberating on the matter tonight. That means that it won’t take long before they’ve made their decision. They will contact me when they have. Meanwhile, you will continue work as usual, and not travel without someone with you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Crosscut,” the younger scientist replied. He would have to ask Counterbalance to be his ‘someone’ for this. He didn’t feel comfortable with anyone else, after all.

“Good. You are dismissed.”

Perceptor nodded and turned to leave, knowing he wouldn’t get a ‘goodbye’ better than that. Still, before he crossed the threshold of the door, he paused to say, “Have a good lunar cycle, Crosscut.” At the grunt he received in response, the Head of Science already leaning over the datapads on his desk in concentration, he ex-vented. “Good lunar, Road Rage.”

“Have a good one, kid. And tell Counterbalance the same for me.”

Perceptor gave her a smile. “I will.”

 

()()()()()

 

Ultra Dion didn’t think he could sober from an overcharge as quickly as when he received the call from Powered Convoy. The leader of the Autobot Academy had commed him while he was putting Kup, who was half-offline from overcharge, into his berth in their shared quarters. He told the Academy graduate that he had something to personally discuss with him. This was huge, as Dion had never actually talked faceplate-to-faceplate with the illustrious former Destron.

And so he found himself standing in the commander’s office, feeling nervous and jittery. What could have happened that he was called to personally talk to the older soldier?

“Ultra Dion,” Powered Convoy finally spoke.

“Yes, sir,” was the automated response that came.

“You are a very lucky mech. Not a solar out of being in the first graduating class of the Academy, and you are already being given an assignment,” the heavily armored mech informed him. His dark blue, red, and grey armor stood in stark contrast to Ultra Dion’s own bolder blue and white. “You were, in fact, personally chosen by the Council themselves.”

“Sir?” Dion couldn’t hide the surprise in his vocals. “Permission to speak?”

“Granted,” Powered Convoy nodded.

“What could the Council possibly want with me? I’m not exactly top of the class. Whatever it is, I’m sure there are many other bots more qualified…”

“That is not for you to decide, Ultra Dion.” When the graduate stiffened at his commander’s tone, he actually lowered it a bit. “I suspect your behavior during the rebellion in Fort Trypticon, as well as your marks in certain areas, are to be thanked for their attention being turned to you.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

The older mech tapped a datapad before him, bringing the information up on the large monitor that took up the wall behind his desk. It was Ultra Dion’s file. “According to the witness reports, you spent the better part of being trapped in Fort Trypticon with a medic and two soldiers you didn’t know. They said you never once wavered from your vigilance at the door, always ready to act in case the rebels managed to break in.” He switched the image to his Academy records. “While your marks in marksmanship and hand to hand combat are indeed high, though not at the top, you received nothing but praise for your leadership skills, as well as your loyalty to anyone assigned to your teams during exercises. Even though you knew they were just training, you still refused to abandon a teammate, and managed to take control of any situation to make sure everyone got out online.”

Ultra Dion didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even realize he’d actually done so well in such things. He only did during the training exercises what he felt anyone else in the situation would have done. Finally he asked, “But what do those have to do with the assignment?”

“That is the right question,” Powered Convoy turned off the monitor, turning to face him again. “They needed someone qualified to look after another with dedication and fortitude. Who, no matter the situation, would lay down their lifecycle to make sure that other mech would never come to harm. Ultra Dion, starting next solar you are being assigned as a bodyguard.”


End file.
